


sleep on it, dream on it

by abovetheruins



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: Zim is a distraction and Gaz is annoyed. What else is new?
Relationships: Gaz/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	sleep on it, dream on it

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this gorgeous piece of artwork](https://space-n-sky.tumblr.com/post/623649946502119424/damb-u-ever-give-yourself-cavities) by space-n-sky.

Gaz is in the middle of a campaign, headphones nestled snugly on her ears and buzzing with the voices of her teammates, when Zim saunters into the room. She barely spares him a glance, and is a little annoyed at herself for even that; she’s been looking forward to this session for a week, had made it a point to remind her brother not to bug her while she was busy, and had assumed he’d pass the warning along to his little friend.

“ _Rival_ , Gaz,” she can practically hear Dib protesting in her head. “He’s my rival. Not my friend.”

Yeah, because rivals hang out in each other’s houses and share all of their weird little hobbies with each other. Gaz scoffs. Dib’s pretty dumb sometimes, that much is certain, but then again, so is Zim.

_Then again_ , she thinks with a pang of frustrated annoyance as her eyes trace Zim’s path across the floor, _so am I_.

‘ _You cool, Membrane?_ ’ one of her teammates hums in her ear. Gaz glances at the screen and realizes she’s suffered some damage, falling into a trap she usually would have sailed through. She grunts out a “yeah” and forces herself to focus on her damn game, rather than the alien steadily infringing on her space.

Or at least she tries. It’s hard to dedicate her attention to the battle raging on screen when there’s suddenly an armful of Irken in her lap.

Her fingers twitch on her controller, hardly the act of protest she’d been aiming for – because that’s the only response she should be having to such a breach of her space – and in the process slip free of the attack button. The lapse allows an enemy to slough off a sliver of her HP, and though she mows down the lucky hitter before they can dare to carve off more health, the damage is done. Her cheeks are two pockets of heat.

Her teammates may not have caught her slip, but judging by the faint curl of lips against her shoulder, that luck hasn’t extended to Zim. He doesn’t take the moment to crow, at least. Smart of him. One word would have cost him a trip to the floor – a short and painful one.

It still might.

Zim doesn’t seem concerned about that. He’s made himself right at home, in that way that he’s always done, carving out a space for himself heedless of an invitation. At least he doesn’t take up much room. He’s barely Gaz’s height, having grown only a few inches since grade school, and is able to curl against her chest with ease. His spindly arms settle loosely over her shoulders, knees curled up and tucked into her sides. He hasn’t even taken his goddamn boots off.

Gaz refuses to acknowledge him, insomuch as she can get away with considering how close he is. Zim’s not heavy, but he’s warm, a bundle of heat against her torso that drives away the perpetual chill of the air conditioner. He’s quiet, too, and while Gaz appreciates that he seems to reserve all of his loudmouth rantings for Dib, she’s still surprised he’s actually capable of keeping his mouth shut.

Whatever. It's easy enough to see the screen over his head, and it’d be more of a hassle to drop him than to just ignore him and keep on with her game.

‘ _Hoard coming up on the left_ ,' her teammate warns, just as the faint brush of an antennae grazes her cheek. Gaz wrinkles her nose and jerks away from the ticklish touch, shooting a glare down at the alien in her lap. She’s met with Zim’s toothy grin and a warm puff of air against her throat as he hisses out a laugh.

"Thin ice, _Zim_ ," she hisses back, her annoyance stemming more from the ease at which he's managed to rile her than at the alien himself - though she has plenty for him, too.

"Continue with your exploits, little Gaz," Zim murmurs, seemingly unconcerned by the threat of her wrath. He ducks his head against her shoulder, his breath leaving a spot of warmth on her t-shirt. "Zim will not interrupt."

"Sure you won't," Gaz scoffs, injecting her voice with as much disdain as she can muster to detract from the sudden, terribly warm flush of _feeling_ suddenly wriggling in her chest. Gross.

That’s the price of familiarity, she guesses, settling back into her game with her arms wrapped loosely around her new burden. You start making allowances, letting your guard down.

Or you just break through whatever walls are there, if you’re Zim. She almost misses when he used to be wary of her.

It's her own fault, she knows. He only takes the liberties that he does because she allows them, and Zim knows that, too.

He's true to his word about not interrupting her, though, even going so far as to curl his antennae behind his head so they don't distract her. He doesn't entertain his usual ploys, either: doesn't criticize her battle strategies, doesn't cheer when she lands a particularly brutal hit. He doesn't even comment when one of her teammates makes a blunder. He just... sleeps. 

Gaz assumes he’s sleeping, anyway, or doing a good job of pretending. He’s got his cheek nestled into her shoulder, chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths, and when she glances down, his crimson eyes are firmly shut. His mouth has even dropped open a little, and in the lull between battles she can hear his thin, reedy breaths.

He’s almost… cute, in that way that a deceptively fuzzy animal can be cute just before it unsheathes its claws and rips your face off. Reminds her of the stray cat that hangs out in the alley near school – all big eyes and deceitfully innocent face until you get too close and it tears your ankles to shreds. 

She blows out a breath of laughter at the thought of telling Zim about it, wondering what face he’d make when she compared him to a lowly Earthen pet. He’d probably hiss and spit at the insult, maybe bare those zipper teeth in a snarl. _Wouldn’t help his case_ , she thinks with a smirk, just as her team reaches the end of their campaign. A round of satisfied cheers rings out through her headphones, and without analyzing why, she thumbs the volume down a few notches.

‘ _Want to go another round?_ ' one of her teammates asks, and though everyone else seems willing, still flushed with the thrill of their success, Gaz disconnects with a curt “Another time,” and logs out of the game.

Her feet are starting to fall asleep, and in the silence of the inactive screen she can hear her stomach rumbling for a midnight snack. The ticking of the wall clock mingles with Zim’s raspy breaths. Her brother’s snores echo down the hall. 

Gaz looks down at the alien in her lap and huffs out a single, silent breath. If she smiles, or touches Zim’s shoulder, or feels content, no one’s around to know. 

She boots up another game and settles in for a long night.


End file.
